


Countdown

by HawthornSparks



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/M, Solo, Undercover, thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 14:16:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3450197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawthornSparks/pseuds/HawthornSparks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>122 days since Jake Peralta had walked away from Amy Santiago, leaving her alone and confused outside the 99th precinct. </p><p>122 nights he had fallen asleep with her disbelieving face the last image in his mind before drifting into uneasy unconsciousness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Countdown

**Author's Note:**

> I'mma be straight with you - this is my first B99 written fic (despite religiously watching, reading and reblogging everything B99 related over the past few months) and it is suuuuuuuper late night/early morning here. So apologies for any errors and glaring spelling/grammar/general mistakes and issues.
> 
> I'm keen to start writing more Peraltiago (because our fandom just doesn't have enough!!), time permitting of course. Definitely something bigger than this.
> 
> As always, I would love to know your thoughts on this.

* * *

 

_"Well you see her when you fall asleep_

_But never to touch and never to keep_

_'Cause you loved her too much_

_And you dived too deep”_

 

* * *

 

122 days.

 

122 days since Jake Peralta had walked away from Amy Santiago, leaving her alone and confused outside the 99th precinct. 

 

122 nights he had fallen asleep with her disbelieving face the last image in his mind before drifting into uneasy unconsciousness.

 

122 mornings he had woken up, desperately trying to grasp the remnants of her voice, her smile, that remained.

 

Taking deep breaths to calm his racing pulse, Jake Peralta scrubbed a hand across his face as he sat up and took in the same dingy apartment he had found himself in each of those 122 mornings.

 

He checked his phone. No new messages. Every morning the same, and yet every morning he hoped. He hoped her name would appear just once across the screen. Just once to let him know she was thinking of him, even a fraction of the amount of time he spent thinking of her.

 

But if anything, this case had taught him to be a realist. And he knew the rules. No contact. And that included everyone from the Nine-Nine. And his mother. And Amy.

 

That had been drummed into him enough times before he’d signed the paperwork. And again on each meeting with his handler.

 

Brushing his teeth and staring at his rough reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror, he couldn’t help but miss his home comforts. Sure, undercover work is all about playing a role - obviously something he excelled at, but he did wonder if someone in the Bureau was having a little fun at his expense with this absolute dive. Even the lowest of the Iannuci circle didn’t live quite like this.

 

Putting on some coffee (a luxury he had insisted on) he leant against the window frame, looking down into the neighbourhood.

 

Too many times he’d caught himself taking second glances at every brown-haired Latina that he’d passed. Of course she knew the rules as well. This was Amy ‘Rulebook’ Santiago, the last person to even consider potentially jeopardising a case.

 

Rinsing out last night’s mug, he sighed. The Feds would never agree to a bonus of contact for good behaviour, and it wouldn’t be worth the risk to the case or himself.

 

122 days since he had blurted out ‘romantic stylez’.

 

And 61 days until he returns home.

 


End file.
